


The Dispossessed

by Isilloth



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Feanorian Week 2020, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23279326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isilloth/pseuds/Isilloth
Summary: Set after Maedhros' rescue from Thangorodrim.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo, Maglor | Makalaurë/Maglor's Wife
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	1. Maedhros

Pain in the hand on which he hanged was horrible. And thank this pain he knew he was alive. The sun was burning him, constantly, with the only relief was the night, with cold spreading through his body. He didn’t know what was worse. It lasted days, weeks, maybe months, and still, he couldn’t simply die. 

Maedhros opened the eyes. And he thought it was a dream. It had to be, he couldn’t be here. It had to be some cruel trick of Morgoth. To let him believe he was again free. With his brothers. With Fingon. There were more horrors to endure, this one was sure.

But, after a moment from awakening, he realized its true. He felt fresh bedding, rough and stiff, but so pleasant to touch. The pain was real. The pain in the place where his hand should be. 

“Maitimo? How are you feeling?” Fingon, still sitting by his side, asked.

“Better, I guess,” Maedhros croaked, with a voice still unused to speak. There was no much opportunity to do this in Angband. “I think… I think I shouldn’t really be in your camp. I should go to my brothers.”

Fingon sighed.

“I don’t know, Maitimo. You’re still very weak. And your hand… Besides this, Makalaurë is here, with you. I’m here…”

“I feel like I shouldn’t overuse your hospitality, Kàno. You know this. And you know why.” 

“Let speak about this later, when you’ll be better. At least when you will be able to stand up. None will hold anything against you now. I won’t allow this.”

* * *

Few days went by, and Maedhros felt better. He still experienced phantom pains, and he didn’t expect this to end anytime soon, but he was stronger with every day. When he finally stood up, he knew it was the time to leave. Being here with Fingon was good, and he would be missing this, but... He knew how uneasy Maglor felt here, how others were looking at him. How others thought about them, staying here. Maedhros only once saw anyone besides Fingon, and this was Fingofin, greeting him with reserve. And Maedhros felt guilty. How he didn’t manage to stop his father before burning the ships.

“Makalaurë, I think we need to go,” he said, when once they were alone. 

“Are you sure? You still weak,” Maglor was looking in his face with concern. As always these days. His brother seemed crushed under the pressure of the latest events. His face was greyish and tired. 

“I’m strong enough.” He lifted on his elbows and sat unsteadily. “I’m sure I can endure a few miles trip to our camp. I don’t want to be a burden to Findekàno.”

Maglor nodded. 

“We can set off even tomorrow. I prepare everything.” 

* * *

Maedhros sat and stand up, as he wanted to go on his own feet to the cart in which they were about to go to their camp. His pace was unsteady, but he managed to make few steps before he staggered and fell in Fingon’s arms. The other elf was watching over him, while Maglor went to he stable to prepare horses. 

“You don’t have to leave now…” Fingon said, for the thousandth time. 

“I have to, Kàno, and it will be for the best.” The sat down on the bed, Fingon’s arms still around the other man. 

“Maitimo…” the elf put his hand on Maedhros’ face, tracing his scars. “I don’t want to be parted with you, not yet.” He put a chaste kiss on his lips. 

Maedhros lowered his head. 

“Kàno, I love you, but it’s not enough. We can’t just act on our feelings, not now. For this it was a time in Valinor, now we have to care for our people. I’m sorry, I got to go.”

“I understand,” Fingon said with a sad voice. “I know it’s what we supposed to do. Just… It’d not easy for me.”

“For me neither. And remember, it’s not goodbye forever. We will see each other soon, for sure.”

“Yeah, you right.” But he didn’t seem to put faith in that. 

Maedhros stroked his cheek and put a long, lingering kiss on his lips. 

* * *

The sun was too high on the sky, for Maedhros taste. He felt almost like if she was to burn him, as she did on Thangorodrim. He wanted to crawl under the saddlecloth, but his dignity didn’t allow him that. The camp already was in a clear view, way bigger than Maedhros remembered this. Now there were wooden houses, or at least more of them, not the tents and huts build quickly. 

“You rule our people well,” he said to Maglor when they approached the buildings.

“Thank you,” Maglor responded quietly, with a voice full of guilt. “But I shouldn’t do this. All I should do was to bring you back. Like Findekàno did.”

“Makalaurë, don’t blame yourself. You did what was the best. For our people.”

Maglor didn’t respond. They reached the central place of the camp, by which their home stood, also way bigger than Maedhros remembered. Celegorm stood by the stables, and he momentarily ran to their cart. He shouted to some boy to bring his brothers here and greeted Maedhros with a warm smile. Soon all brothers were out helping him off the cart, leading him to the house and generally making a fuss over him. 

“I think I need to rest. Lead me to my chamber, if it’s still here,” he ordered, when they seemingly were heading to the main room. 

“Of course it’s here,” Caranthir was indignant of the proposition it may be demolished. “It’s waiting for your return. It had been like this all the time…” 

It felt good to lay down in his own bed. Of course, it wasn’t the same as his bed back home, but... It was time to stop thinking about Valinor as their home. There was no returning for them, they knew it. It was time for them to make this place, Beleriand, as good for living as they could. And Maedhros had idea had to start – stave off the conflict between them and Fingolfin’s host. But his brothers wouldn’t like it. Oh, they wouldn’t…


	2. Maglor

“You are very anxious lately, _melmenya._ Since your brother came back _._ ” Laimissë put a hand on his arm and massaged him lightly. “What is happening?”

Maglor only hid his face in his hands, resting on the table. He knew she could feel his anxiety through the bond between them, the bond between the husband and the wife, although he tried to cut it away from her. And he knew he shouldn’t feel that way, now, when Maedhros returned, but he couldn’t help it, just sank deeper and deeper in self-hatred and guilt. 

“I failed,” he said only, quietly, yet firmly. “I failed Maitimo, when I, his brother, his regent, should have come to rescue. And I already thought him lost. Damn, when the letter from Morgoth came, I didn’t hesitate, I rejected the treaty! I should have thought…”

“You couldn’t negotiate with the enemy! You couldn’t do anything!”

“And yet Findekàno could.”

“Stop blaming yourself! Maybe Findekàno, on the wings of love, and with sheer luck, did this. And he had been favoured by Valar, with the help of great eagle you wouldn’t obtain. Oh, Makalaurë, you always worry too much. And for what? It wouldn’t help anyone, especially that it’s all over now, and Maitimo is here, with us,” she was speaking harshly, with a raised voice, but maybe it was something he needed now.

“I know, I know… Just… I find it hard to look Maitimo in the face.”

Laimissë sighed and sat in front of him, taking his hands gently. She smiled at him, massaging his palms. Maglor straightened up and leaned against the back of the chair. It was good to have her here, to have someone close, besides brothers. Curufin’s wife was gone, perished in Alqualondë, and Caranthir’s stayed in Aman. He was the lucky one. And still, he dwelled on sadness, for no apparent reason, as Laimissë put it. He needed to pull himself together, for the good of all of them. 

Someone knocked to the door. When the opened, one of their followers came in.

“Your brother, king Nelyafinwë, wants to see you, my lord. In private.”

“Of course, I’m coming.”

Maglor put a light kiss on his wife’s cheek and left the room. Maedhros still spent most of the time in his bedroom, although he was much stronger by now. He was curious about what his brother wanted to talk about. Maybe this time Maglor would be able to act normally for once. To look Maedhros in the eyes. 

The servant opened the door to Maedhros’ chamber. His brother was sitting by the table, trying to scribble something with his left hand. Judging by his irritated face, he didn’t do it very well. But Maedhros was ambitious, if he decided to learn to write again, he would do this, sooner or later. He would have to learn many things again, but he would manage, Maglor thought, as always. 

Maedhros put down the quill and rolled up the parchment with an irritated gesture. 

“You wanted to see me, Maitimo,” Maglor started. 

“Yes, indeed. We need to talk. Sit down, Makalaurë.” Maedhros pointed to the chair in front of him. His face was grave, and Maglor felt a little bit anxious seeing that. 

“I decided to abdicate in favour of Nolofinwë,” his brother said, without further preparation.

Maglor was shocked. For a moment he couldn’t bring out the voice

“What?” he managed to utter at last.

“I’m abdicating. It’s the only way.”

“Only way for what?”

“For peace between or people. We wronged them, and many died during crossing the ice. We need to repay them. And beside this, Nolofinwë is the eldest, he almost was a king back in Valinor, he would know how to rule our people. And his people would never respect me as High King of the Noldor.” 

“But… Our father wouldn’t want this,” Maglor didn’t know what to say. Maedhros reasoning seemed to be good, but he felt the need to oppose that as even his brother called him here just because of that. 

“But our father is dead. And he’s not coming back.”

“Well, it’s your decision to make. And I would say you have a point, but our brothers… Won’t be happy about this.”

“I know. I knew you would be most reasonable about this, and that’s why I’m telling you this first. But my decision is final. I will inform the rest tomorrow, and then I prepare everything and talk with uncle.”

“It definitely would be reaching out to him. But I’m not sure if it really helps.”

“Why?”

“You didn’t see this, as you were mostly very weak or unconscious, but I was among them, and Nolofinwë’s family is very bitter about us. Well, Findekàno is, of course, all at your side, whatever you would decide, and Irissë treated me with cold kindness, but Turukàno… He hates us, and I don’t really blame him. He lost his wife and almost lost his daughter on the ice. I doubt he would ever forgive us. And you know he’s father’s favourite.”

“Either way, I will beg for forgiveness and pass the crown to Nolofinwë. He would make a better king than me.”

“And it would be a fine gesture of reconciliation. I think this is a good idea, and I will support your decision, no matter how it would be.”

“Thank you.”


	3. Celegorm

Celegorm was hunting. Alone, only with Huan. This wilderness of Beleriand was something that he loved. He felt the real freedom here, without the supervision of Valar, without their controlling eyes. Even if he loved Oromë, he felt tamed by him, put in the expected form, form of the Vala’s follower. Here, however, he missed Valinor, he might just be himself.

He took the deer he struck down and clipped it to the saddle. It was time to go back. There were matters he had to deal with while at home, and he couldn’t spend all days on hunting. Or so his bothers told. Well, they were right. He couldn’t all the time run away from his problems into the wild. Even if this was the simplest solution. Only here he felt whole. He found himself to rather like this solitude, as opposed to problems he had faced when with others. In Aman, he yearned to be with others, here, Huan was only needed a companion.

When in their camp, he took the deer and started to skin and flay it. He counted on some more time to himself, calmly and proficiently taking care of his prey. It was soothing. 

But it wasn’t the case. Soon after he came back and locked himself in the room, someone knocked to the doors. He didn’t want to see anyone, but he opened. Curufin stood there, arms crossed, visibly irritated.

“Here you are. We were waiting for you. You really could spend more time among the people than the forest beasts… Anyway, clean yourself and come to the main hall. Maitimo wants to see us all.”

“Give me a moment and I will come.”

“Of course, you can’t go to Maitimo like this. You’re all in blood. We will wait for you. Everyone is already in the hall.” Curufin turned on his heel and headed to the main building. 

Celegorm sighed. He went to the well, took the bucket with water and cleaned himself of blood and animal remnants. When he found himself proper enough, he headed to the manor. 

His brothers were already sitting at the table. Maedhros at the head, and the rest by his sides. Celegorm took the place by Curufin, and the oldest brother spoke.

“I gathered you all here because I want to announce something. And before I say it, I want to stress that I’ve already made the decision, and it is unchangeable,” Maedhros took a breath, visible preparing himself for saying something important. Celegorm looked at Curufin questioningly, but his younger brother only shrugged. “I’m going to abdicate in favour of uncle Nolofinwë,” he ended, and everyone was in shock.

A million thoughts went through Celegorm’s minds. And first was, how could he, how could he give up what their father wanted so badly. How disappointed father would be. And to whom? Fingolfin, who may play their father friend, who may say he would follow him everywhere, but their father bear little love for him… But Celegorm wasn’t first to voice these concerns.

“Are you kidding?” Curufin asked voice raised. “Would you tarnish our father memory like that? Did you think what would he say?”

“Our father is dead. And I have to think about living.”

“So think about us! You don’t want to be a king, pass it to Makalaurë, he was a king for a while, but, for Valar’s sake, not to Nolofinwë!”

“I said, my decision is final. It would help to bring peace between our people. Maybe they would forgive us when I would do this.”

“Unbelievable, you value more your relationship with uncle, than with your own brothers. Or maybe you’re so _grateful_ to Findekàno you lost your mind,” Curufin said, with venom in his voice. “Don’t ask me of anything ever again.” He stood up and left the main hall, slamming the doors.

The silence felt on them. None moved, but Curufin voiced also Celegorm’s concern. He was angry, but did he really care so much for the crown staying in their family? He really didn’t know. And if he didn’t know, probably the answer was no.

“So, you really wanted us to be dispossessed?” Caranthir asked quietly.

“I want us to be at peace with Nolofinwë’s people. That’s all. And I don’t think we really need the burden of the crown. I will organize everything, inform our people and we went to Nolofinwë. I want you to be with me there, I think it would make a better impression.”

All the brothers nodded quietly, but none looked like if they were convinced of this idea. Only Maglor offered a supportive smile. But none dared to repeat Curufin’s outburst.

Celegorm was about to leave the room, and return to flaying the deer when Maedhros asked him to wait for a moment. He stopped, despite being angrier and angrier. He dreamt only of a moment to himself, a moment of solitude and focus over a body of an animal, he struck down. 

“Tyelko, I want you to talk with Curvo. I know how angry he is, and that he didn’t support my decision, but I want us to come out as a front. To show Nolofinwë and his people that you all will respect my choice.”

“And what makes you think I’m all for you passing the crown to Nolofinwë? I didn’t protest, out of respect for you and your position, but that’s doesn’t mean I’m happy with that. I don’t think I could convince Curvo to something I didn’t really believe in.”

“But don’t you see it’s necessary?”

“I don’t know, I’m no great politician here. But I see from where is Curvo coming from. I’m sorry, Maitimo, but I don’t think I can help.” 

Maedhros sighed. He looked really tired now, and Celegorm felt pity for him. But he really couldn’t help. And he didn’t want to argue with Curufin, and it’s how it would have ended. He loved Curvo above all, and yet another quarrel was too much for him. 

“Okay, so you are free to go. But I hope that after all, you will support me?”

“Yes, I will.”

As he said, he was no politician here, he probably wasn’t smart enough to see every possible outcome of this decision, and he trusted Maedhros, after all, to be more skilled in this matter, but it was kind of tarnishing their father memory. And Curufin was the one who cares about it the most. Not like if the rest of them didn’t care… But frankly, they didn’t care that much. Father really went mad in his last days, and all this conflict with his brother, or half-brother, as he liked to stress, wasn’t so much to their liking. Well, Fingolfin probably would make good king after all.


	4. Caranthir

Caranthir was pacing nervously through the room. He didn’t know what to think about it. He promised to support Maedhros, no matter what, but he wasn’t sure it was a good idea. Like probably all of his brothers. Maybe except Maglor, who didn’t seem to be angry at their oldest when he decided to resign. Caranthir suspected the bard know earlier about abdication. And probably already expressed his support.

Which was telling something. The only two brothers whoever was the High Kings (even if, technically, Maglor was only a regent) were in favour of abdication. Maybe it really was a burden none want… And Fingolfin was ambitious enough to take it. After all, he already took place of the king when they were on the exile. 

Caranthir sat down, deep in thought. He regretted his life took this way. He missed Valinor, even if they were not welcome there. He missed the days when everything was simpler when he didn’t have to worry about kingship or succession, and he thought he would never have to. He leaned back, and laid down, plunging into memories. Well, memories were all he had now.

* * *

The golden Laurelin was in full blow. And its light still was very delicate, filling the air with gold haze. So much more beautiful than the light of its last fruit, the sun. Caranthir was sitting on the yard, playing with his toys. He still was a small child back then. Everything was simple and his greatest problem was quarrels with Celegorm about what to play. Maedhros was already adult, and he spent most of the time in the city of Tirion, while they lived on the suburbia. Maglor, who was a teenager back then, on the other hand, most of the time was practising playing on many instruments, and he gave little concern to his younger brothers. 

The days were as always, calm and full of laughter. They say that everything in past is smoothed by inaccurate memories, but these days truly were like that. Elves do not forget, nor their memories don’t wither. But this day he heard for the first time his parents arguing, passionately and fiercely, like everything they did. This quarrel was quick and rapid, like a tempest, but after that, they made up as soon as this started, and the clouds were lifted. Yet Caranthir remembered it well, so sudden it was and so unexpected. Later, when every day ends with much worst row, it was a fond memory.

But then everything began. 

* * *

Oh, his wife soft lips, back then, when she wasn’t even his fiancée. They walked together, in the bliss of Valinor, under the light of Telperion, through silvered streets of Tirion. Their hands entangled, inseparable. Back then he thought they would be always together. But this wasn’t the case.

His wife, Milyë didn’t want to go with him even on the Exile, to Formenos. She preferred her beloved Tirion, to her, once beloved, husband. He thought that maybe they get married too soon, too rush was their decision. He didn’t know. But it broke his heart. He thought he would never love anyone again like that. 

* * *

He got back from his memories. It wasn’t the time, and after all, they weren’t the pleasant ones. And Maedhros already was calling after him. They had to go now, to the Fingolfin’s host, give up the kingship. To become truly dispossessed.


	5. Curufin

Curufin was ponding passionately on a piece of metal. He didn’t know what exactly he would do with this, and at this point, it was probably noting, as he would destroy it completely if he would proceed to heat on it. But he needed some emotional outlet. And blacksmithing always was such for him. 

Today Maedhros and the rest of his brothers was about to go to Fingolfin, give up to him what was truly theirs. By right and by their father’s effort. And Curufin couldn’t bear it. 

He almost didn’t realize someone entered the forge, so engaged he was in his work. He may not hear anything, but he saw the light and felt the cold breeze from the outside. 

“I don’t want to talk,” he snapped loudly, not even knowing who was in. 

“But I think we should, Father,” to Curufin surprise, it was Celebrimbor who came. He expected Maedhros, or maybe Celegorm, asked by the oldest brother, to come and try to convince him to go with them. 

He paused his work, put down the hammer and wiped out sweat from his forehead. He wasn’t even aware of how much he was worked out until he stopped. 

“You came here because uncle convinces you so?” Curufin asked, with resentment. He didn’t expect even his son to be against him. 

“No, none convince me. I have my own mind and soul, I can think for myself. And what I think is that uncle Maedhros is right…”

“I knew it, he dragged you to his side! You said you have your own mind, but you mimic your uncle words!”

“So it would be thinking for myself only if I agree with you?”

Curufin couldn’t find the proper answer for this accusation. He knew something is amiss, but couldn’t place this. He understood his brothers are disagreeing with him, at last Maedhros had authority over them, but his own son? He should listen to him, respect him and, above all, support his opinion no matter what.

“Let me tell you, father, we don’t need the kingship. And, even if uncle Maitimo would be High King still, Nolofinwë’s people wouldn’t respect that. What is the kingship if the majority of the people didn’t respect it? Why would we struggle for that? We still would have our people, loyal to the fault.”

“We don’t need this? How could you say that? Nolofinwë’s people are obliged to listen to us, to respect High King, who still, is Maitimo. I don’t agree with this, I would never agree to give up our birthright!”

“But if you so loyal to Maitimo as High King, wouldn’t you listen to him no matter what? Wouldn’t you be loyal to him, to his will? And his will is to give up the crown. You should accept it, support it, no matter what. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Arguments, which cited Celebrimbor, already crossed Curufin’s mind. But he didn’t want to yield to it. He knew he should follow the order from Maedhros, to go with him to Fingolfin’s host, but he couldn’t bear it. 

“I regret I rise you to be so logical. Because it is a logical argument. But I do have right to my own agenda, I’m his brother, not his subject. And such an order I couldn’t accept. I’m sorry, Tyelpë, but I cannot go with them to Nolofinwë. It’s too much for me, I would feel like if I betray my father trust. And the truth is, Maitimo have right to decide, and I can’t change his mind, but I would never support such a decision.”

“I hope with time you would see it was the right decision, and we don’t have much choice if we want to avoid eventual bloodshed.”

“Bloodshed? You’re exaggerating.”

“I don’t think so. They must hate us. Many of them lose their lives on Ice. Uncle Maitimo made the right decision to make peace between us.”

“I don’t see it. And now excuse me, I need to go back to my work,” he picked up the hammer and place the piece of metal o the anvil. He, still, didn’t know what to do with the piece on which he was working on, but spending the day in the forge was the best option he got. Oh, let them finally left and left him alone. 

Celebrimbor sighed.

“I really think we should all show support to uncle Maitimo. And you’re absence won’t be unnoticed.”

“Good. Let them know I don’t support this folly,” Curufin growled through clenched teeth. He didn’t hear any response and turned his back on the door. Celebrimbor left. 


	6. Ambarussa

They were preparing horses with heavy hearts. Minutes ago, Maedhros announce to his people what he was about to do. There were no words of protest, as they all respect Maedhros greatly, but it could be seen on faces of many, that they didn’t agree. And the absence of Curufin was noticeable and troubled them all. Well, Amrod and Amras didn’t really care. They were always left behind in family gatherings, in decision making or ruling over people. Why should they now care about the crown, about Curufin’s opinion on that? They were going with Maedhros because he asked them to because they didn’t care about the crown. They believed Maedhros would know better. And he probably did.

Anyway, probably nobody will pay attention to them, as always. They were unimportant, youngest sons, never much interested in politics or running public affairs. So they could observe everything from some afar. 

When they reached Fingolfin’s camp, unfriendly looks welcomed them. Well, it was nothing they wouldn’t expect, yet still – this people, once their friends and even family, now glanced at them with reproach. And who would blame them? They heard Ice wasn’t gracious. Many have died, including Elenwë, Turgon’s wife. 

But uncle Fingolfin was above that, or so it seemed. He welcomed them heartily, every one of them with a smile and embrace. But it was shown he was curios they purpose here.

“We came to talk,” Maedhros said when the greetings were over. 

Fingolfin led them to the great hall, still under construction. Turgon, Aredhel and Fingon accompanied him, but only them. And from them, only the eldest son seemed to be somehow friendly to them. Especially, to none surprise, Turgon looked like if he was deadly offended by their presence. They had to be a matter of constant conflict between brothers, Amrod thought. It was a pity Argon wasn’t amongst them. They were friends in better times, and the information about his dead grieved the twins greatly. They always found a common tongue with the youngest son of Fingolfin, being in a similar age, and now, he was gone. 

“Uncle, I didn’t come here without a reason,” Maedhros started.

“I hope you didn’t,” Turgon snorted, from behind his father back. Fingolfin looked at him with rebuke. 

“I’m listening,” Fingolfin said, ignoring his son intercalation. 

“I think I’m not best suited for the High King of the Noldor. You should bear this title,” he said, without further introductions. 

Alike Fingolfin’s and his children’s faces betrayed the shock. Turgon was the first to regain his voice.

“But why?”

“There is no peace between our people. And yours would never follow me. I think this would help bury the hatchet between us.”

Fingolfin sat behind the table and invite the rest to sit with a gesture. Amrod and Amras took shore places, but they heard from here everything good enough. It hit them suddenly, how tired Fingolfin looked. How tired everyone looked. This time wasn’t gracious to them. 

“I accept your proposition. I would take the crown, and there would be peace between us.”

“Peace? How it come?” Turgon once again spoke without prompting. Aredhel put her hand calming on his shoulder and whispered something to him, which they didn’t hear. And he was once again ignored.

“I assure you peace no matter what,” Fingolfin said again. “I think we must announce it to our people.”

“I already said it to my subjects,” Maedhros said. “Before leaving our camp.”

“Good. Are they supporting you?”

“Of course, none dared to speak. They respect me, and would follow me everywhere.”

Fingolfin took a look on their faces. Ambarussa remained neutral faces, but they saw not everyone did it for us well. Celegorm and Caranthir, for example, didn’t look as if they were pleased. And above all, Curufin wasn’t there.

“But not all of your brothers support your decision, as I can see.”

Maedhros sighed.

“Yes, Curufin didn’t want to come. But I assure you, he won’t trouble you.”

“I see. So let make it official.” Fingolfin smiled warmly, and they left the hall together. It was done, Fingolfin was to be the king. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [the king is dead; long live the king](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23436616) by [starlightwalking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking)




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